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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366309">Paris Original</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindropsonwhiskers/pseuds/Raindropsonwhiskers'>Raindropsonwhiskers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet, Dancing, F/M, but its not not fluff, its not fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:15:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindropsonwhiskers/pseuds/Raindropsonwhiskers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor runs into a younger Master while investigating something, and decides to take a night off from saving the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paris Original</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valc0/gifts">Valc0</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A birthday present for the wonderful @valc0 on tumblr! A month ago they made a list of some mismatched Thoschei pairings and mentioned their womb eviction day was coming up, so... I wrote this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Doctor hates dresses. She has nothing against them from an aesthetic point of view - in fact, she quite likes the fun patterns and bright colors they often have. It's just that they're so </span>
  <em>
    <span>impractical.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But she has to blend in for her plan to work, so that meant wearing a pale purple dress, stockings, and heels. It is, in short, a nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, if it's what she has to do in order to figure out what's been causing strange fluctuations in energy signals around here, it's what she's going to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's halfway through breaking into one of the offices, having slipped away from the main party once she was confident it was in full swing, when someone comes up behind her and startles her into dropping her sonic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, Doctor," the someone says, in a very, very familiar voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor turns. Sure enough, standing behind her and smirking like he's done something impressive, is the Master. The one who once went by Harold Saxon, though he's clearly some time after all that. She bites back a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You look lovely, by the way," he adds. "Surprised to see me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn't give him the satisfaction of saying yes. "Why are you here? And how did you know it was me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm just enjoying a nice party!" he says innocently. His wide eyes have nothing on his most recent self's, but he gives it a good try anyways. "No crime there, surely. And I knew, Doctor dearest, because no one else would possibly be trying to break into that office but you, especially not with a silly little sonic screwdriver."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, yes, you were all about lazer, weren't you?" she mutters, reaching for her own screwdriver and tucking it into a pocket - anachronistic, she knows, but she doesn't care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So much more efficient," he agrees. After a second, he drops the innocent pretense. "Now, you're not going to get past that lock, because I made sure of that. So, instead, why don't we head back up to the party and have a little fun?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor levels a glare at him. "Why would you be keeping this office locked? What's in there?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That stupid smirk comes back. "I'm hardly going to tell you, now am I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She resists the urge building in her hearts to just lunge at him and do something stupid and violent, because it won't make any difference in the long run, and he'll be insufferable about it, and... oh, who's she kidding, and because it's been a long time since she's danced with the Master and she's missing it a bit more than she should.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. "Fine. But if you try anything..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, yes, I'm sure you'll tear my whole plot to shreds and leave me somewhere deeply unpleasant if you can manage it," he says, waving a hand. "I know how this works, Doctor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offers her his hand to help her up from the floor. The Doctor ignores it, pulling herself to her feet unassisted, but she does take his arm when she stands. After all, it's only polite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rooftop of the office building is a whirl of music and bright fabric, even with the sun setting on the horizon. A live band is playing something slow and sweet, men in suits are huddled in groups making less-than-legal deals, and everyone is thoroughly drunk. Everyone minus the pair of Time Lords, that is, thanks to a distressing lack of ginger in the vicinity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, the Master has a flute of champagne in his hand, though it isn't much more than a prop. He's been making rounds of the party, chatting with various humans and dragging the Doctor with him rather reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You promised me dancing," she points out as the band starts up a new, faster song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master tilts his head. "Did I? I'm afraid I don't recall that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor scowls. Technically, yes, he hadn't mentioned dancing, but it had been implied and they both knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>," the Doctor says, gesturing at the people around them, "has not been fun. And if I get bored, who knows what I might decide to poke around in. Like that office you really want me to ignore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a bit of a gamble - she has no idea </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> is actually in that office, but his attempt to distract her was pretty transparent, and she's not a fool. From the way his grip tightens slightly on her arm, she's right. He hides it well, but she knows him better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine." The Master sighs dramatically. "If you insist, darling."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can reply, his hand is on her waist and he's sweeping her into a swing dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time Lords are, on the whole, very good at dancing. A sense of rhythm comes easily when all of time is thrumming to the heartbeat of the universe in your ears, and having faster reflexes than most species only adds to that advantage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even in heels, the Doctor's always been light on her feet; it doesn't take long for her to fall into the sway of the music. It's an unfamiliar tune - something bright and brassy - but the beat is simple enough, so she's easily keeping pace with the Master. He twirls her out and her skirt flares around her before he pulls her back in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not so bad, is it?" he grins, entirely too smug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor pulls a face. "Much rather be doing this in trousers. Too much loose fabric everywhere like this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," he lowers his voice, almost inaudible over the band and the chatter of the humans, "I think it looks stunning on you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the song begins to wind down, he settles one hand on her back. "Do you trust me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. "Not even a little bit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The Master smiles, sharp and predatory. "Good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, without any more warning, he dips her backwards. His hand is firm on her back, supporting her as her vision spins. Just as quickly as it happened, she's upright again. The Master doesn't move his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music slows, transitioning into more of a waltz, and both of them adapt to it. Her hand sits on his shoulder, light enough she doubts he can even feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One of us isn't going to remember this," the Master says, after a few measures of silence between them. "And I don't think it's going to be you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor hums vaguely. He's right, of course, but he doesn't need her to confirm it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You didn't know I would be here, though," he continues. "You weren't looking for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn her bleeding hearts for wanting to tell him everything. He's one of the cruelest incarnations of her best friend, the one who tortured her and her companions for a year, the one who will take Missy and Bill away from her; even knowing this, she still wants to bare her soul to him and explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I wasn't," she says instead. Her tone is cool and calm, or at least trying for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, do I do something </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the future?" he asks, mocking. Then his eyes light up. "Do I kill one of your pets? Ooh, do I kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn't answer. Telling him anything would be a risk to the timeline, and worse, he'd be insufferable about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Doctor, don't be a tease, give me a little something to look forward to," he purrs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes it back, he's already insufferable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master twirls her around again, and she goes with it without a second thought - and promptly bumps into someone. In an instant, the bubble of hazy almost-affection between the two Time Lords pops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling away from him, she tries not to notice the slide of his hand on her waist and the way her hearts ache when she breaks all contact with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need to go," she says quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, disappointed. "As soon as I start having fun. What, not in the mood for a little banter?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor turns, not replying, and slips into the throng of people. Letting him have the last word is annoying, but it's better than dealing with him for any longer. It's not like he'll remember either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn't try to open the office again. Whatever's in there, she can worry about it when her head is clear and she can no longer feel the ghost of the Master's touch on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The TARDIS feels empty when she heads back, the crystals dim and blue. They usually are, these days. The Doctor kicks off her heels as soon as she makes it to her bedroom, but doesn't bother with the dress before flopping onto her bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This body doesn't cry much; not after Grace's death, not on Gallifrey, not during the time she spent in jail. But it can do self-loathing very, very well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shouldn't have done it, any of it. She knew it was a bad idea, she knew it wasn't going to make any sort of difference, and yet… they danced together. For just a little while, they had been something close to friends again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn't fall asleep wishing things could have gone differently. The Master doesn't spend the rest of the party hoping, just a little, that she would try meddling with his plans. Neither of them treasure the memory, even as the details grow hazy in the Master's mind. Neither of them remember what songs they danced to.</span>
</p>
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